


Art students are way better than Law ones

by Vivian_Curtis



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Secret Crush, Shitty you adorkable idiot, sad Lardo is sad, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:02:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6666994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian_Curtis/pseuds/Vivian_Curtis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Did Shitty give a damn about what... who he was leaving behind him? Was he really so unsuspiciously careless, ready to point a metaphorical compass toward Harvard with no regrets, feeling just happy and free? Had he done everything he wanted, no, needed doing here at Samwell? Wasn't he forgetting something important...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art students are way better than Law ones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pepperweb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepperweb/gifts).



> Hello there, guys! This is my first for this fandom. I need to thank my beta, the great Pepperweb, for introducing me to the fantastic webcomic "Check please!". Thank you, dearest! xoxoxo
> 
> I ship Shitty and Lardo like crazy and I hope you'll like my little tribute to their love story!

In all the time Lardo had known Shitty, she had never once seen the floor of his room at the Haus. Not even once. No kidding. Like, the actual floor, you know? It was like Shitty's room was in a permanent morning-after-a-kegster state. At best, you could manage to see little parts of it, between layers of old pizza boxes, beer cans and empty bottles, books, paper, dirty laundry etc... Parts of floor as big as the foot that would move all this stuff stepping on it. Parts of floor that would be covered again by other stuff at the next step.

This "phenomenon" had inspired Ransom some sort of deep scientific observations: staring at Shitty's room was like staring at plate tectonics right in its metaphorical eyes, if not at the movements of Pangea itself. Just with fast forward and a ton of crappy trash instead of oceans and immersed continents. Holster had been more of a philosopher, saying that the room couldn't be too upset for being so dirty: in fact, it was like Shitty had given it a soul. Holster had even said that the room was like the Paradise of Trash: every object that had been good in its life (like beer bottle that hadn't warmed up after just a few seconds out of the fridge) would end in that land of blessed dirt.

Chowder was deeply fascinated by Shitty's room, to the point that, when he talked about it, you could tell he was using a capital R as a show of respect.

Jack looked like someone who hadn't wasted a single thought or even acknowledged the detritus build-up in that room, whereas Bitty avoided both the subject and the room like he was magnetically repelled. Philosopher-Holster had explained it this way: a man can only stand a precise quantity of shit in his life. Bitty had surpassed his limits on the day he moved in and by prioritising the cleaning of the kitchen it left him with little or no tolerance for anything other than that green couch. 

Lardo sighed. Her mother, her friends and, in all likelihood, 90% of the worldwide feminine population would have fainted at the mere sight of the House and above all Shitty's room, but she didn't mind. Maybe it was her artistic side talking, but that room was original and had a lot of personality. When she had told Shitty this, he’d replied: "Yeah, ok, there's pretty much fucking everything in there, so I suppose there's personality as well."

The recollection made her smile, even if in a sad way.

She looked around and sighed again. "So the legend didn't lie: your room has got a floor!"

It was supposed to be a joke, yet the words left Lardo's lips with an unmistakeable tone of surprise.

Shitty looked up from the large box he had just closed, the last one. He frowned in confusion.

"Uhm... Did I miss something?"

"I said that, contrary to all expectations, this room really does have a floor."

Shitty gave her a bright smile that made little wrinkles appear at the side of his eyes.

"Well, don't forget the walls and... oh God, look, there's a ceiling too! Who the fuck knew?!"

Yep. They’d had to clean every part of that damned room including but not limited to: posters, banners, flags, pizza boxes, a not-so-small stash of weed, old concert tickets, elephant-sized dust bunnies, a staggering amount of disposable chopsticks and a collection of coasters stolen from all the local pubs and bars in the neighbourhood. Finding out the walls and the ceiling were actually made of wooden boards, instead of fossilized layers of paper, was another big surprise... along with discovering a rug which was same colour of vomit (even the bits that weren’t stained). It was an acheological playground. Mental note for Lardo: burn the rug as soon as possible. Like... yesterday.

Lardo's eyes followed Shitty as he dragged in the last plastic sack filled with trash into the hallway. Another seven sacks were already there waiting to be taken out. They were all so full! Lardo was certain that Shitty couldn't be the only culprit for all the mess they had just cleaned up: maybe he had inherited part of it from the previous owner of that room.

Lardo felt her chest tightening.

So... that was all, right? The room was hard to recognise now it was empty. No more junk, no more trash, no more dust or dirt, with the exception of the awful, fucking rug.

Soon, too soon, Shitty wouldn't be there anymore either. 

Shitty was graduating tomorrow and setting off for Harvard Fucking Law School that same weekend. His family and all the guys were happy for him, so proud of their lawyer-to-be. And Lardo was too....honestly.

Two boxes containing all the stuff not destinated to the bin were on the floor, next to a large suitcase.

For every piece of sticky tape ripped off to close that boxes, Lardo had felt her eyes sting because of the tears she was trying so hard to hold back. When Shitty had asked which task she preferred to take, the girl had been very careful to leave the damned boxes and the suitcase to him. Filling plastic sacks with any sort of trash, even slimy and a bit stinky? No problem at all: there was a reason she’d brought a pair of industrial rubber gloves! Same for scratching old stickers from the toilet. Yes, the toilet. Jesus Christ, Lardo would have happily cleaned the toilet twice a day for the rest of her life... as long as she could be as far as possible from the boxes. She didn't want to be the one to fill them, even the idea of touching them made her chest tight. The were the ultimate evidence that Shitty was moving out.

It wasn't like when she’d helped other friends to move out: her heart and stomach told her so, beating faster and contracting at each glance she had thrown at Shitty filling them. It hurt too much. It was too definitive. Because Shitty was (almost) a graduate now and was going to set off for Harvard. Without Lardo.

That was why Lardo had to pretend to be happy for him on the outside, because she was so in so much pain inside. She was angry at Shitty and at herself as well. She felt like an idiot for being sad bacause of a boy! She hadn't had to deal with that sort of bullshit when she was a bloody teen, so why now?

Besides, Shitty hadn't even left yet! Nobody in their right mind would miss someone who was still there with them, right? If she felt like this now, how much was she going to suffer next week? And the month after that?

No way in hell was Lardo going to count down the days until she could visit him! She didn't even want to know how many they were, those stupid days! It was childish and pathetic and not Lardo-ish at all!

But still, last night she had stared at the calendar in her bedroom for longer than she was comfortable to admit. She had stayed there, silent, with a pen held tight in her fist like it was a weapon, even if she was feeling defeated already. Biting her bottom lip, she’d pondered whether or not to mark how many days would separate her from Shitty and admit they were making her suffer already, or to just keeping denying it.

They would of course text each other and perhaps skype: problem solved! So why she was so sad? Because even this way, Lardo was sure it would feel like taking light painkillers when you are in agony. (Fuck. Since when she was so dramatic? If she didn't get her shit together soon, she would find herself writing cheesy bestsellers for moody teens instead of creating super badass art!).

She had no idea how she was supposed to be able to deal with all of this. She was trying to work out whether waiting until the first available day to visit Shitty was acceptable or was it wiser to visit him at Harvard a bit later? She didn’t want to make it look too suspicious, like she was clingy or Shitty-starved. Yes, she was going to choose the best strategy ever, so tha...

"Lardo? You ok, brah?"

Shitty was waving his large (warm, comforting, a part of her mind supplied) hand in front of the girl's face. She blinked hard with a little shiver running down her spine; her gaze focused after a second and met Shitty's smiling (always smiling...) green eyes always full of curiosity.

Eyes that weren’t concerned about the future, because of course Shitty had no reason to worry: he was the one leaving, not the one left to cope. And then that resentful thought forced another rush of sorrow inside Lardo's chest...

Did Shitty give a damn about what... who he was leaving behind him? Was he really so unsuspiciously careless, ready to point a metaphorical compass toward Harvard with no regrets, feeling just happy and free? Had he done everything he wanted, no, needed doing here at Samwell? Wasn't he forgetting something important...?

Lardo closed her eyes, desperate not to cry.

And Shitty misunderstood.

"I know, I know!" he said with a light tone "This room completely sucks balls, but try to look at the bright side! This way, it's like a white cavas, yeah? For Chubby Buddah's sake, Lardo, I bet twenty, no, forty bucks that you'll transform this room in some kind of fucking post-modern masterpiece in less than a week! A new form of art where you can sleep, study, eat, create other art and... well, basically do whatever the fuck you feel like!"

Lardo could almost hear Shitty's widening smile in his voice. She didn't know whether she was more upset with the fact he hadn't understand her real feelings at all, or her mother's voice, now sighing inside Lardo's head: "Tsk! Boys..."  
"I can't wait to see this room when you’ve done your magic! Hey, promise you'll sent me picture on Whatsapp, ok?" Shitty went on, an arm now gently resting on Lardo's shoulders. The girl had never minded Shitty's touchy feely side (quite the contrary, to be honest), but now his arm felt strangelly heavy "This room is soooo going to be the very best of the Haus, Bitty will probably fucking cry his sweet little heart out because of its beauty! I wouldn't be surprised if he'd get Stendhal syndrome or some shit like that... Maybe you should make people pay to visit your room, what do you say?"

Lardo kept looking down, not saying a word. God, her eyes were burning for unshed tears now! Seriously, how could be Shitty so enthusiastic? Ok, he had achieved great results and it was his right to be over the moon, but... couldn't he wait to show his happiness until he had left?

"It's not like he'd have to wait for long..." the girl thought, not even trying to hide her disappointment.

“Come on, bro!” asked Shitty, still totally unaware of Lardo's feelings "Art students are great! They have creativity, incredible good taste and the Muses protect them..."

How could he be so happy? Was he really that fucking stupid to not notice that Lardo wasn't her usual self, that she was struggling hard to pretend everything was fine? Lardo had never been good at making the best of things and she wasn't in the mood for starting doing so now! Jesus Christ, even Jack had enough sensibility and functioning neurons to notice that Bitty had a massive crush on him! Damn right it was up to Jack deciding when he would take the leap, but the point was: he had noticed Bitty. No doubt about it: the captain wouldn't have fooled anybody with those longing glances. As subtle as a marching band, their Jack...

Lardo couldn't help giving a little smile at the tought. It was a fleeting smile though: the comparison Shitty vs Jack led her to frown.

What was Shitty's fucking problem for being more romantically challanged than Jack?! How was it even possible to be worse than their hockey-robot captain?

Lardo was too caught up in her thoughts to listen to Shitty's words. Besides, it now sounded like he’d launched into some sort of panegyric about art students ("What's that? Sense of guilt?" she asked herself, bitterly). Then he stopped almost abruptly, giving a little squeeze on Lardo's shoulder that awoke her from her torpor.

"Am I right? Art students are way, way better than Law students!"

And that statement was what turned on the switch inside Lardo that she didn't even know was there.

She stepped back a little. She was calm in concentration now... Shitty's arm fell from her shoulders without her noticing it. She grabbed him by his collar and gave it a hard tug, so that Shitty's startled face came to be at the same level as hers.

"Lar... mmph?!"

The kiss was sweet and thrilling at the same time, probably because it started so suddenly: Lardo felt a shudder run up and down her whole body as soon as her lips pressed against Shitty's. A deep part of her mind registered what she was doing, but in the moment, even if Lardo's feelings were so many and tangled up like a ball of rubber bands, fear wasn't a factor. Not by a long shot. Not a single doubt crossed her mind whilst she kissed Shitty. On the contrary, Lardo threw her arms around Shitty's neck, pulling him down to meet her mouth, kissing him deeper and... oh gosh, that moustache tickled!

But it didn’t put her off; she was more than ready to get used to that feeling. In actual fact, she was intrigued by the idea... Who knew what it would feel like on other... parts of her... anatomy? Mmmh...

Shitty held Lardo by her tight hips, kindly lifting her up against his torso like he had done it all his life. Lardo felt happiness radiating from the inside, a nice, conforting heat that didn't burn. She was pretty sure this was it for her; that Shitty would be the only man she ever loved, that cliched One, the man who had waited for her. They were like bread and peanut butter. Damn right they were.

At that realisation, all the anxiety, sorrow and frustration Lardo had felt before just a few moment ago melted away, barely leaving behind the end of an echo in the girl's heart.

When Lardo and Shitty parted, their breathing heavy and lips kiss-reddened, he gave her a bright smile and carressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"I hoped you would do something like this." he said.

Lardo frowned, but before she could say a word, Shitty added: "Bro! You are far fucking braver than me! Told you Art sudents are way better than Law ones!"

Yeah, about that.... Lardo couldn't agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think? Please let me know your opinion in a comment! I have some ideas for other fic, both Lardo/Shitty and Bitty/Jack... If you want more, remember that kudos are like oxygen to me! ;)


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